careful now, girl, you hear? Those men took everything from me, and they’ll take that and a bit more from you, understand?”
“I can take care of myself,” Lynn said. “You best be on your way now.”
“Good luck to you then,” he said, gave her a two-fingered wave and went west, his boots making a scuffing noise against the gravel as he adjusted to walking in shoes again.
Lynn went inside and crouched by the window with Lucy, who wordlessly tucked herself into the curve of Lynn’s body. Lynn wrapped her arms around the little girl, allowed her warmth to flow up her arms and into her chest, where her heart still ached for the loss of Mother. Lucy tilted her head against the window to watch the stranger go, her breath making a fog against the cold glass, until they could see him no more.
“Good luck, mister,” she said, her words filled with the hope of a child.
A few days later, the grim specter of the traveler still haunted Lynn. If there were truly people hunting possessions down, her house would be a prime target. The stranger had faded from Lucy’s mind though, her quick, happy thoughts soon overwhelming any reminder of the despair of their world. Lynn’s long sojourns on the roof held no interest for the girl, and the games she’d been playing with Red Dog had lost their appeal.
“Lyyyyyynnnn . . .” Her high-pitched voice carried up to the roof easily in the cool fall air. “I’m booooooorrrred.”
Lynn pulled her eye away from the scope. “Read a book or something.”
“I can’t read on my own, dummy. And all you have is big, stinky poetry books. No pictures.”
“There’s a set of encyclopedias. They’ve got pictures,” Lynn argued, but was answered with what could only be categorized as a butt noise, followed by giggling.
“Can I go see Stebbs?”
“No, you’re not crossing the field alone.”
“Then you come with me.”
Lynn sighed and put the rifle down. Lucy had walked out into the yard far enough that she could see her from the roof. She looked down into the petulant face. “I’ve told you—I can’t leave the pond, especially with what that guy said the other day. There’s people out looking and taking.”
Lynn heard Lucy whacking at some of the dead weeds for a few minutes before heaving a deep sigh. “But I miss Stebbs,” she argued as if they’d never stopped talking. “We haven’t seem him in a looooong time.”
Even though she was exaggerating, Lynn’s brow furrowed. She’d spent most of the last few days on the roof looking out for Lucy while she played, watching the smoke rise from the Streamers’ new home, on alert for threats from the south. She hadn’t been watching for Stebbs, but she hadn’t noticed movement in his direction either. Lynn scoured her memory to see if the familiar red flash of his handkerchief had become so commonplace that she’d ceased to notice it, or if she truly hadn’t seen it in days.
She brought her eye back down to the scope, focusing on Stebbs’ small shelter tucked away in the woods. It was much easier to spot now that the leaves were off the trees, the undergrowth of the woods stripped bare by foraging animals. There was no smoke rising from his building. Lynn set down the rifle and grabbed the binoculars, feeling intrusive as she zeroed in on his house. The binoculars brought it into closer detail and movement grabbed her attention. His front door was banging open and shut in the wind. The wrongness of the image made her stomach drop. Stebbs was so far removed from the road she hadn’t thought to warn him about the stranger’s news of men in trucks.
“Lucy, do you have your good boots on?”
“Yeah.”
Lynn strapped the rifle across her back. “We’re going for a walk.”
The field was difficult to navigate; the frozen clumps of dirt kept tripping Lucy up, and the bleached white skeletons of the coyotes fascinated her. Her endless curiosity brought the expected flow of questions, but Lynn remained silent about the piles of bones. She kept one hand on Lucy, the other resting on the butt of the handgun stuffed in her waistband. She didn’t like being away from the pond, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that Stebbs would never have left his front door open in the winter. Something was wrong, and her newly found conscience wouldn’t let her ignore it.
“All right,” she said to Lucy once they were on the edge of the woods. “I want you to stay here until I say you can come in.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what happened. There could be bad people in there, or . . . or something you shouldn’t see.”
Fear made the little hand clench hers tighter. “Bad people like the ones that took that guy’s shoes?”
“Just like those.”
“Don’t leave me here alone.”
Lynn wrenched her hand away from the girl’s, ignoring the stab of guilt when her lower lip trembled. “You’re safer here. Sit tight. You’ll be able to see me the whole time, and I’ll be able to see you. Once I know it’s safe, you can come on in.”
“Okay,” Lucy said doubtfully, but she sat on the ground.
Lynn approached Stebbs’ shelter warily. She’d never been in his woods. The only houses she’d ever walked into were ones she already knew were empty. Stebbs’ shelter was a converted shed that had still been standing when the ancient brick house that accompanied it had crumbled. Lynn skirted the pile of crumbled bricks as she approached the shed, gun in hand.
She stuck her foot out to stop the door from banging against the side of the building and peered around the door frame. There was no one inside. A small stove rested in the corner, cold and empty. There was a window facing east with a small shelf above it that held one plate, one fork, one spoon, and one cup. That was all. The only luxury Stebbs had was a real bed pressed up against the west wall. It was small, but with a true mattress. Lined up beside the door were three pairs of boots, the right heel worn much lower than the left on all of them. His coat hung limply from a nail by the door.
But Stebbs was not there.
Lynn stuck her head out the door and called for Lucy, who came crashing through the undergrowth. “Where’s he at? Where’s the magic man?”
Lynn sat on the bed, relishing the comfort of the mattress even though her mind was enveloped in worry. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Maybe he went to see my momma and Eli.”
“Maybe,” Lynn said, only to comfort the girl. Dead leaves were skittering around the floor of the shed in the breeze. The door had been open for a few days at least.
Lucy stood on tiptoe to glance onto the shelf above the window. “So where’s his food? Where’s his water?”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve got all our food and water right where we can get it. Where’s his?”
Lynn jumped to her feet and kissed the little girl on the head. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re a genius.”
Lucy’s nose scrunched up. “Huh?”
Lynn swept back the braided rug beside the bed to find a carefully cut trapdoor that opened on well-oiled, silent hinges. A weak voice rose up from the dark depths below.
“I’m flattered you came to check on me.”
The ladder that led down into Stebbs’ underground storage space had broken under his weight when he’d gone to retrieve his supper two days before. His ankle had twisted underneath him badly enough that he couldn’t walk, but he’d been in no real danger. The walls of the little bunker held canned food, vegetables, even a camp toilet. His plan had been to wait until his good ankle supported him well enough to pull himself up through the
